Scarlett?”
“No.” Scarlett shook her head miserably. “I’m sorry, Mrs Ridgewell. I don’t know what’s going on, really. Everything seems to have gone wrong.”
“Well, maybe we should look on the bright side. A complete break for a few weeks might do you good. I’ll ask your teachers to prepare some work for while you’re out there – and, of course, we’re going to have to recast the Christmas play. I have to say that it is all very inconvenient.”
“Didn’t he say anything?”
“I’ve told you everything I know, I’m afraid. I thought he would have discussed it with you.”
“No. I haven’t heard from him.”
“Well, I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. He told me he’d ring you tonight. So you’ve just got time to say goodbye to your friends.”
“When am I leaving?”
“Your flight is tomorrow.”
Tomorrow! Scarlett couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Tomorrow was only a few hours away. How could her dad have done this to her? He hadn’t mentioned anything when they were in the Italian restaurant. What crisis could possibly have arisen in less than a week?
Scarlett spent the rest of the day in a complete daze. Her friends were equally surprised, although the truth was that she was beginning to get a bit of a reputation. She was weird. First the church and now this. She didn’t even get to see Aidan. She looked for him on the way home and tried texting him, but he didn’t reply. Mrs Murdoch had already heard the news. She had started packing by the time Scarlett got home. And she didn’t seem pleased.
“Not a word of warning,” she muttered. “And no explanation. What do you suppose I’m meant to do, sitting here on my own?”
Paul Adams rang that night as he had promised, but he didn’t tell Scarlett anything she wanted to know.
“I’m really sorry, Scarly…” His voice on the line was thin and very distant. “I didn’t want to do this to you. But things have happened… I don’t want to explain until I see you.”
“But you’ve got to tell me!” Scarlett protested. “Is Mum all right? Is it you?”
“We’re both fine. There’s nothing for you to worry about. It’s just that there are times when a family has to be together and this is one of them.”
“How long am I staying with you?”
“A couple of weeks. Maybe longer.”
“Why?” There was silence at the other end of the line. “Can’t you tell me anything?” Scarlett went on. “It’s not fair. It’s the middle of term and I’m going to miss the school play and all the parties and everything!”
“Look, I’m just going to have to ask you to trust me. You’ll be here in twenty-four hours and I want to explain everything to you face to face, not over the phone. Can you do that for me, Scarly? Just wait until you get out here… and try not to think too badly of me until you arrive.”
“All right.” What else could she say?
“I’ve booked you into business class, so at least you’ll be comfortable. Make sure you bring lots of books. It’s a long flight.”
He rang off. Scarlett stood there, holding the receiver. She was feeling resentful and she couldn’t stop herself. This wasn’t fair. She was being bundled onto a plane and flown to Hong Kong as if she were a parcel being sent by Fed-Ex. She was fifteen years old. Surely she should have some control over her own life?
The taxi came at midday. Scarlett’s flight was leaving Heathrow at half past three. Mrs Murdoch helped carry the cases out and load them into the back and the two of them got in together. The housekeeper was coming with her as far as the airport and would then return to the house alone. It was a grey, overcast day and the weather reflected Scarlett’s mood. She twisted round as they pulled away and watched the house disappear behind her. She knew she was only going to be abroad for a couple of weeks but even so she couldn’t escape a strange feeling. She wondered if she would ever see it again.
They reached the bottom of the street and were turning left into Half Moon Lane. And that was when it happened. A car crash. Scarlett only saw part of it and it was only later that she was able to piece together what had happened. A car had been driving towards them – it had just come from the main road – and a second car, a BMW, had suddenly pulled out in front of it. Scarlett heard the screech of tyres and the smash of impact and looked up in time to see the two cars ricocheting off each other, out of control. One of them had been forced off the road and was sliding down a private driveway. She could make out at least three people inside.
“London traffic!” The taxi driver sniffed. He completed the turn and they picked up speed.
Scarlett twisted round and looked out of the back – at the crumpled bonnet of one of the cars, steam rising into the air, glass scattered on the road. A bus had been forced to stop and the driver was climbing down, perhaps to see if he could help. The accident was already disappearing into the distance behind them and she supposed it was just a coincidence. It couldn’t mean anything.
But even so it made her uneasy. It reminded her of the moment – two years ago, and just a short distance away – when she had almost been killed. And that made her think of the man who had contacted Aidan, wanting to meet her at the restaurant that had been blown to pieces before she could arrive. Scarlett sank back into her seat, feeling anxious, unable to control what was happening to her. Mrs Murdoch gazed out of the window with no expression on her face.
They parted company at the airport. Scarlett was flying as an unaccompanied minor – what the airline called a Skyflyer Solo. She had to suffer the indignity of a plastic label around her neck before she was led away. She said goodbye to Mrs Murdoch, hugging her awkwardly. Then she picked up her hand luggage and headed for the departure gate.
It had been so close. None of them would ever believe just how close it had actually been.
Matt Freeman had landed at the same airport earlier that morning. There had been a uniformed chauffeur waiting for him and the others, and soon they were sitting in the air-conditioned comfort of a new Jaguar, being driven to their hotel. Richard was dozing in the front seat. He had spent much of the flight working on the diary and had barely slept at all. Jamie was looking out for his first sight of the city. Matt could see that so far he was disappointed. They were driving through a wasteland of blank, modern warehouses and unwelcoming hotels – the sort of places that always surround airports – and Matt wanted to tell him that this wasn’t London at all.
But then, twenty minutes later, they turned off the motorway and suddenly they were in the city itself, passing the Natural History Museum in Kensington – it was still closed for repairs following Matt’s last visit there – then the Victoria and Albert Museum, Harrods and Hyde Park Corner. Jamie stared, open-mouthed. He had spent much of his life in the desert landscape of Nevada and he wasn’t used to seeing anything that was actually old. For him, London with its monuments and palaces was another world. He saw red buses, pigeons, policemen in blue uniforms, taxis… It was like falling into a pile of picture postcards. His one disappointment was that Scott wasn’t with him. The two brothers had never been so far apart.
The driver took them to a hotel in Farringdon, a quiet part of London with narrow streets and a meat market that had been around when the animals were driven there in herds rather than delivered from Europe, pre-packed in boxes. The Tannery, as it was called, was small and anonymous – Richard and Matt had stayed there before. It was just a few minutes away from the private house where the Nexus met. By the time they arrived, it was eleven o’clock. A meeting had been arranged for half past seven that evening, giving them the rest of the day to relax and unwind from the long flight.
They made their way into a reception area which was like the front room of someone’s house, with thick carpets, flowers and the comforting tick of a grandfather clock. The receptionist was a tight-lipped woman who took care not to give too much away. She glanced disapprovingly at Richard – still in his Hawaiian shirt, looking more like a beach bum than ever – and the two boys who were with him, then asked for their passports and slid forward some forms for them to sign.
“How many nights?” she asked.
“We’re not sure,” Richard said.
“Two rooms. I see they’ve been prepaid…”
The telephone rang. The receptionist plucked the receiver as if it were an overripe fruit and held it to her ear. “The Tannery Hotel,” she said. A moment’s silence. Her eyes fluttered and she handed the phone to Richard. “It’s for you, Mr Cole.”
